Zen And The Art Of Parenting
by Save Fearow
Summary: Slickis always recovered quickly. That's why when he woke up and found a statue of himself in the living room, and his only son Ickis standing next to it with a fish hook stuck in the bonsty's paw, it only confused him for the briefest of moments. Then Slickis was right back in the swing of things, having entered 'Dad Mode.'


Zen And The Art Of Parenting

an Aaaah! Real Monsters Fanfic

by Save Fearow

Author's Note: Slickis just rolls with everything. That's pretty much the only way you CAN be a parent to a monster like Ickis and still keep your sanity intact. I held off on posting this for awhile since it's rather bittersweet. But our computer is messed up and this is the only completed, unpublished fic I had on the zip drive. Hopefully it's of decent quality.

Slickis stretched and yawned. He awoke feeling totally refreshed from his nap (maybe some monsters stopped calling it a nap once you passed the 24-hour mark but Slickis had never been one of -those- monsters.) He firmly believed that rest was the best cure for any ailment, and he'd never been proven wrong in that regard. Besides those dreams had been awesome, running through sandy beaches with Squelia always at his side, the roar of a crowd chanting their names periodically, even little Ickis had been among the spectators, plausibility be darned. Slickis smiled. He loved his son so much, it would be great to play with Ickis again today, Slickis was sure his boy had missed that (although Ickis -was- developing such an independent streak lately. Lerkayner, the publicity agent, always argued that Ickis was too big a bonsty to accompany his father everywhere. If Ickis had done a good job watching the house in his stead, Slickis might leave him alone more often, start with the weekends and then work up to more and more time spent apart.)

Speaking of Ickis, he could hear the boy crying softly downstairs, upset that something 'wouldn't come out.' Slickis frowned, he hadn't been deliberately ignoring Ickis, it just seemed more practical to tell his son to be good, and then sleep until he felt well enough to do everything he normally did, but maybe he hadn't explained that concept properly to Ickis.

Slickis bounded downstairs where Ickis could be seen, tugging at a paw furiously before tucking it behind his back. "Ickis? I'm sorry about-" the entire apology speech he was planning flew out of Slickis' mind as he beheld the newly-refurbished living room. "That, that's a statue of me." Slickis noted with surprise.

Ickis perked up. "Do you like it? Did I get the ears right? I put all the notches in, didn't I?" Ickis questioned.

"It's a perfect likeness." Slickis assured him. And it was, he just had no idea what the heck had prompted Ickis to build something that elaborate.

"I -knew- you'd like it, at least I was pretty sure! An' I gunked up the whole house see? An' I polished your trophys, most of 'em, I got through 68 awards anyway! Only another 47 to go an' I'll have finished the first display case!" Ickis exclaimed with pride.

"That's very nice, Ickis. I'm not sure how you found the time to do all that, and go foraging. That sewage smells great." Slickis was already drooling in anticipation of breakfast.

"I woulda made slime pie, but you don't let me use the stove!" Ickis whined.

"I jus' don't want you to burn yourself. Fire can be very dangerous." Slickis professed, as he patted Ickis on the head.

"I never get to do -anything!- I'm big, I organized your tackle-box, um... maybe there's one hook missing but it's no big deal." Ickis asserted.

Slickis inspected his son more carefully. "Let me see your other paw." he instructed.

"There's no need! It's jus' like this one, only opposite!" Ickis argued.

"Ickis. Don't fight with me on this. Show me your paw, son." Slickis gently commanded.

Ickis' other paw was bloody and oozing, with a fish hook wedged into the palm. "I almost got it out." Ickis insisted.

"Oh Ickis... you should come to me with a wound like that right away. Your claws aren't long enough to get that hook out." Slickis observed.

"Yeah, I'll say! It wouldn't budge AT ALL yesterday. I think I got it to wiggle some this morning though." Ickis detailed.

Slickis winced. "Yesterday? Then it's about time I got that out for you. I'll get the tweezers out of the cabinet, you go stand by the sink." Slickis offered.

Ickis nodded and obeyed. "You're gonna fix it, right Dad?" he asked.

"Of course. Now hold still, this is gonna hurt for a few moments." Slickis cautioned as he pried the hook free.

"Waaaah!" Ickis cried out in pain.

"Shh-hh. The worst part's over. Now we jus' have to run some sewer water over that, and wrap your paw in bandages. You have to be careful when you cut yourself that deeply, you could get an infection if you don't treat it quickly enough. No telling WHAT you could get into your bloodstream, and those pathogens are always the hardest to shake." explained Slickis.

"I didn't think of that." Ickis admitted. "I jus' thought we could go fishing soon, that's really fun!"

"It's February, Ickis. Maybe we should plan something more seasonal." Slickis pointed out as he bandaged his son's paw.

"I could watch you loom. You do that all'a time, I seen you scare the humans!" Ickis noted.

"Looming's always fun. Need a good breakfast for that, I'm famished! What did you have yesterday, Ickis?" Slickis asked.

Ickis furrowed his brow in concentration. "I 'member scooping up some bugs when I went foraging. I did great out there, only dropped stuff a couple times. An' after that, um... I was working so I didn't have nothing else." Ickis recalled.

Slickis sighed. "It's not good for bonstys to skip meals. Why don't I make us a batch of scumcakes, I can whip those up in a hurry. You can snack on some woodchips while I get that ready, how about that?" Slickis suggested.

"Okay." Ickis agreed. He sat down expectantly while his father rummaged through the kitchen. Slickis placed a bowl in front of him, then went back to preparing the recipe.

"Vanilla sludge or slopberry? What the hey, let's have both!" Slickis decided.

Ickis bit into a woodchip. "Blugh. Doesn't taste very good." he commented.

"Really? Let me try some." Slickis sampled the wood and pronounced judgement. "Pinewood, aged to a fine texture, very grainy. I thought you'd enjoy that."

"It's fine, I guess." Ickis stated as he pushed the woodchips around half-heartedly.

"Wait'll you taste the scumcakes. It's an old family recipe, one of the best ever concocted." Slickis boasted.

Ickis yawned. "Bet it's great, Dad." he agreed.

"Are you tired? You didn't sleep much these past days, did you?" Slickis inquired.

"It wasn't on my to-do list." Ickis professed.

"It should have been. I 'preciate all the effort you've put forth Ickis, but you -don't- have to exhaust yourself on my behalf." remarked Slickis.

"But I wanted to! You do ev'rything for ev'rybody, why can't I give -you- nice things?" Ickis questioned.

"You're a good son to care so much about my happiness. But don't neglect your own well-being, okay? It makes -me- happy to know that you're safe and content." Slickis proclaimed.

"Yes, Dad. I'd be content if the groupies left us ALONE today." Ickis pouted.

"Have they been coming by more often? I can hear them approaching now, so I s'pose it's possible." Slickis noted.

Ickis' ears drooped. "They wanted to see you yesterday. I told them to go away an' I locked the door. Lerkayner tried to scrunch under, so I took some of the mud I'd gathered an' plastered it around the cracks. I scraped it off later, so I could go out again once I -knew- they'd left. I hadda wait more'n an hour till they stopped yelling at me. One of the groupies called me a brat, an' another said I was mono-tonizing you or something." Ickis remembered.

"Monopolizing." Slickis corrected. "And that's ridiculous. You're my son and I love you. I can't think of any monster I'd -rather- spend today with."

"Try telling THEM that. They might listen to the Great Slickis." Ickis complained.

"I love the way that sounds, don't you? Lerk's a good agent, he was right that it really rolls off the tongue!" Slickis declared.

Ickis coughed. "I liked Dad better. It suited you." he insisted.

"Cover your mouth when you do that." Slickis informed him. "Scumcakes are done. Here, you can have the first one. Tell me what you think."

"It's... nice." Ickis claimed.

"Terrific! Have as many as you want, I'll make more if we run out." Slickis offered. He gobbled down 4 scumcakes in rapid succession.

"Maybe later." Ickis acknowledged, yawning again.

"You look VERY tired. Go lie down on the couch Ickis. You'll probly be hungrier after you nap." Slickis professed.

"I'm not a bonsty." protested Ickis.

"Grown-ups nap too." Slickis qualified.

"That's not napping. That's shutting out the -entire- world." Ickis declared.

"It's a power nap! Think of it as mentally fortifying oneself for the days ahead." Slickis detailed.

"I think it would be easier to break down a fort than it would be try'n to wake YOU up when you're sick or tired." Ickis replied.

"There you go. Proof that it works." Slickis announced. He gave Ickis a little nudge. "Rest up, Ickis. I'll answer the door this time AND I'll tell the groupies they aren't welcome right now." Slickis continued.

Ickis looked up at him hopefully. "Promise?" he asked.

"I promise." Slickis vowed.

"Okay. But I'm -not- napping. Or fortifying myself." Ickis persisted as he climbed onto the couch.

"Alright. Take your glasses off first. Even if you're not napping, it's good to rest your eyes. But here's a blanket in case you change your mind." Slickis offered.

Ickis sniffed indignantly. "You're trying to -bribe- me!" accused Ickis. He didn't hesitate to remove the glasses at any rate.

"No, no. This is persuasion, Ickis. Bribery comes later, and is -much- more blatant." Slickis insisted.

"It better be a GOOD bribe, or I won't accept it." Ickis opined. But he allowed his father to tuck him in.

It took 20 minutes for Slickis to politely yet firmly insist that the groupies HAD to leave, they were bothering him and his son needed to sleep. But the other monsters finally complied and he didn't have to threaten anyone with a loom so Slickis considered the meeting a success, even if most of the crowd had to be told once AGAIN who Ickis -was- exactly. At least Lerkayner had reminded him to sign up for tomorrow's Monster Mixed Martial Arts Tournament, that was always a fun, surefire way to earn toenails, and Ickis would enjoy watching him compete. Speaking of Ickis, the bonsty had finally nodded off, obviously worn out from his recent activities. Slickis made sure the blanket was still wrapped tightly around Ickis, whose fur was already starting to look blue. "Po' little guy." Slickis whispered. With any luck, Ickis would just sleep for the rest of the day.

Since he didn't have any -other- chores to do, Slickis decided to munch on the remaining scumcakes while he filled out some of the correspondence that had built up over the week (because it was important to be considerate towards the fans, and not because he could keep watch over Ickis while he answered mail. Okay, so not -entirely- so he could keep watch over Ickis.) The Gromble was asking for alumni donations again. It seemed to Slickis that he got those kinds of solicitations at least 4 times a year, which could be considered a tad excessive. But the Academy WAS a worthwhile institution, and without it he never would have discovered that he had a knack for scaring, or that he could single-pawedly carry an entire Sewerball team to victory, and most important of all, he never would have met Squelia otherwise. Slickis judged that was worth at least the 100 toenails the Gromble was currently angling for. There was also a letter from Repugno's Believe-It-Or-Not, offering to measure him at the apex of a loom to see if he could surpass certain landmarks. The initial offer was the Philadelphia City Hall, all expenses paid, and a gar-on-tee of 30 toenails upon completion of loom. Not bad for a day's work, and he could always show Ickis the Liberty Bell while they were out there. Slickis had sort of accidentally cracked that while on a field trip as a young bonsty but there was no need for Ickis to KNOW the stunt wasn't planned. The Gromble liked to invent new and unusual ways for the damage to occur (really it had been cracked on February 23, 1846. The humans had been throwing a party and the Gromble had dragged the entire class there to give a demonstration on group scaring. Slickis had been hungry, and one of the bell-ringers had left lunch up there a week ago, so some of the food had rotted. Slickis had just been about to chow down when the humans interrupted his meal, and he roared reflexively. There had been alot of screaming and flailing and in the chaos the bell had been damaged. The humans hadn't even noticed the crack until later in the week, when they discovered it didn't ring properly anymore. A clever monster like Malvara probly could have told them how to correct the bell's pitch, but humans never seemed to care enough to repair the items they claimed were of historical significance. They had until recently shipped that bell all over the country, not caring about the accumulated damage persistent souvenir-hunters could do to it.) And here was another reminder of his Academy days, Horvak was whining about the divorce settlement, claiming that Shlumm received entirely too much alimony when he was the one raising the bonsty! But Shlumm HAD done alot of work getting that farm running in the first place, and Horvak seemed to forget that it was a loan from HER parents that had allowed them to expand the acreage. Slickis sighed, and mailed his former roommate 40 toenails anyway, it was important that a father be able to provide for his son. The next item was from the Sewerball Writer's Association, suggesting that they revise the rules for eligibility for Hall of Fame inductees, wanting to exclude any monster who bet on games. Slickis had never been a gambler, but he understood the temptation was great for many monsters, and as long as they weren't actively trying to 'fix' the results in their favor, Slickis didn't have a problem with friendly wagers.

Ickis stirred and awoke with a sneeze. "Dah? Whaddya doing?" he wondered.

"Jus' going over the mail. They want to change some of the eligibility rules for the Sewerball Hall of Fame." Slickis explained.

Ickis smiled. "Are dey gonna nomidate yuh?" he asked.

"That won't be for awhile yet. It's gotta be 100 years since your last game at Academy-level before you're up for inclusion." Slickis detailed.

"45 more years den. I'll be big 'nuff I could go to yuh cer'mody all by m'self." Ickis claimed.

"Really? You wouldn't want to go with your old beast and sit in a place of honor? Well, I s'pose I could always auction off your ticket, scalpers go nuts over that." predicted Slickis.

Ickis' lip trembled. "No, no! I din't mean it! I pwomise I'd be guhd, we'd go togetha, why won't yuh lemme go?" Ickis whined.

"I was jus' kidding, Ickis. I wouldn't leave you behind on an important day like that." Slickis insisted.

"Betta not, I'd hol' a gwudge for years." Ickis stubbornly opined.

"That's not a very healthy attitude, son." observed Slickis.

"Don' care, I won't chadge my mind. Ahchoo!" Ickis declared.

"That doesn't sound healthy EITHER, so I'm gonna chalk that outburst up to your illness. Why don't I get you some cough syrup, that'll make you feel better in no time!" Slickis suggested.

Ickis frowned. "Why must yuh torbent me so?" moaned Ickis.

Slickis walked over to the cabinet anyway, heedless of his son's complaints. "Wait jus' a minute and I'll get it for you. Medicine is really not so terrible. -I- took some the other day." Slickis coaxed.

"I know, I heard yuh gagging." Ickis pointed out.

"Okay. Bad example. But sometimes unpleasant things are good for you." Slickis persisted.

"Name one." challenged Ickis.

"You find the groupies unpleasant, right?" Slickis offered. He picked up the bottle of medicine while Ickis nodded vigorously. "Well, Lerkayner was with them and he told me about tomorrow's Monster Mixed Martial Arts Tournament and that he got me put on the roster. Wouldn't you like to go to that, see your Dad in action?" asked Slickis.

"Yesss!" Ickis squealed in delight.

Slickis poured a spoonful of cough syrup and handed it to Ickis. "Drink this first and then you can go." Slickis bargained.

Ickis stared at him, clearly torn. "But- but I hade- an' yet I wanna go- I lub yuh- an' yuh don' play FAIR!" Ickis protested.

"Up to you son. I would never -force- you into any decision. If you want to lie there at home, all by yourself, while I'm surrounded by groupies, who might very well suggest ADDITIONAL activities that would keep away from you even -longer-, that's perfectly within your right. Why if you power nap you might not even notice! And if you didn't sleep I'm sure you can entertain yourself by counting the cracks in the wall! I bet time jus' speeds by when you do THAT!" Slickis claimed.

Ickis gulped down the medicine, grimacing afterwards. "No way! Dere's 31 cracks, I coun'ed 'em lotsa times an' it was -neber- fun!" Ickis argued.

"Seriously, you knew that? Oh Ickis, there has -got- to be something else you could do to amuse yourself when I'm not around." Slickis stated.

"I'm nah good at doin' adythig by m'self! Can't eben read ady ub the books you got." Ickis admitted unhappily.

"Did you have your glasses on when you tried reading?" Slickis questioned.

"Yes." Ickis responded testily. "I don' NEED to be tol' dat all'a time." He slid the glasses back on and scowled. Ickis knew he looked gweebie with them on, but maybe he could pass for fearsome too.

"Alright Ickis. I wasn't trying to upset you." Slickis explained gently. He patted his son reassuringly.

"Okay Dad. I forgib yuh." Ickis relaxed somewhat.

"That's m'boy. Tell me, did you start with the books in English? Those -would- probly be easiest." Slickis opined.

"Don' matta. Dey're all har', who cares 'bout swiggly ledders adyway? Ahchoo! I'b probly jus' dub." Ickis sniffled miserably.

"You're not dumb. You sculpted an entire statue of me, and it's the best likeness I've ever seen!" Slickis professed.

"That's cause yuh the bes' Dad, so I wannid to make subthing great! It took 235 buggets ub mud to buil' it." Ickis recalled. "I hadda keeb gon' back to da docks to ged more."

Slickis sighed. "New house rule. You're not to leave this home more than 200 times in a single day without letting me know ahead of time, it's too dangerous." determined Slickis.

Ickis coughed. "I spread dose tribs out ober 2 days, so it's still allowed." Ickis claimed.

"Not anymore it's not. I thank you for the gift, but it's not worth endangering yourself." Slickis refused to yield.

"So nah fair!" Ickis retorted.

"I'm sorry son, that's jus' the way it is." Slickis ruffled Ickis' fur. "What if I got you some art supplies? Then you could make me whatever you wished, and you wouldn't have to run around outside to do it. Deal?" he offered.

"Deal." Ickis acknowledged. He sneezed again and wiped his nose.

"Good boy. Now why don't we sit on the couch together and I'll tell you about the latest Sewerball controversy. Blappro is in danger of -losing- all his awards because he used to wager toenails on champ-eenship games." Slickis detailed.

"Did he win?" Ickis questioned.

"It's not about whether he won, it's about whether his actions were legal or not." clarified Slickis.

"If he won, den he wuz worgin' the systub. Yuh can do dat subtimes!" Ickis noted sagely.

"I'll take your word for it." Slickis concurred. "Now this a very important issue Ickis, and one that has -completely- divided the Sewerball Writer's Association. That's why they're asking for MY input. I've done a few editorials on the subject, plus I've had almost 40 years experience on the Academy level, and I've been the closing pitcher for our semi-pro league 23 years running. So I need to consider ALL the factors very seriously before I pronounce judgement, as this would not only affect Blappro's reputation, but could have repercussions for monsters who are jus' starting their careers, understand?"

"I unnerstand. How many toenails did he ged afore dey cadged hib?" Ickis asked. "Wuz he jus' breaking eben ahchoo or did he -twuly- skunk 'em guhd?"

"I think I shouldn't be bringing my work home -quite- so often." Slickis decided.

"Yeah, I -hade- it whed you work all'a time!" Ickis agreed. He snuggled in closer to his father, who smiled and hugged him back.

~~~The End.

Author's Note: You know that bust of the Great Slickis that Ickis is dusting in Chip Off The Old Beast? He made that too. The home version is bigger and sculpted out of mud because that was easier to obtain. It probly gets loaned out to museums and other venues since it's a great 'flash paper' opportunity for the groupies. (They never remember the name of the artist who created it, however. Poor Ickis.) Impressive as those feats are, it takes a great deal of loneliness-induced mania to craft them. It gets worse when you realize that Slickis left Ickis alone most of the time between 1930-1994, when they finally started to reconnect. Blame it on poor communication skills. Slickis followed the advice of every other adult monster he knew who declared that Ickis was a big enough bonsty to be by himself. Ickis responded by brooding in angst-ridden silence, but since he never outright TOLD Slickis he -hated- the new arrangement, Slickis assumed his son was dealing with it jus' fine, what a good boy.


End file.
